


Affection

by electronic_elevator



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: AFAB!gender neutral!reader, Clit Stimulation, Depression, Established Relationship, Other, POV Second Person, clothed orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator
Summary: You’re having a bad day. Mark’s not sure how to truly help, but he loves you and can offer the kind of affection that unlocks the brain chemicals you’re running short on.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Affection

**Author's Note:**

> awh shit aw fuck posting this reminds me I need to do the dishes soon— 
> 
> Written July 2020.

It had been such a long day. You merely dragged through it. Your more antagonistic thoughts had been hard to keep at bay — you were irritated with yourself and everything you tried to do. You had no idea how to fix it, or even what was wrong, other than the typical layer of depression. 

You were… trying. It wouldn’t help to neglect what needed to be done. That would only be more fuel on the fire. So you were doing the dishes. But then you dropped a plate. 

It didn’t break, but it made a loud sound, and you worried it broke, and that was enough to push you to the edge of what you were capable of handling. You curled up on the floor of the kitchen, ignoring the fact that it was wet with water droplets from the chore.

“Y/N?” That was Mark. You were somewhat surprised he’d heard the commotion, or maybe that he’d come to investigate. Then again, you’d been acting off enough all day he’d probably picked up on it. 

You briefly thought about standing up, getting out of the fetal position, or anything else that would’ve made you look more functional, but you did not have the energy or the willpower. You called out — tried to. You ended up softly saying, “I’m fine.” The usual definitions of “fine” did not lead to someone curled up in the fetal position on their kitchen floor, but the “fine” you meant was mostly “no, I did not just die in a dishwashing-related freak incident.” 

Mark walked into the kitchen. “…Y/N,” he said, clearly concerned. 

“I dropped a plate,” you said, surprised that your voice came out audibly upset. 

Mark made a sympathetic noise, and knelt to pick up the plate. He looked it over to make sure it hadn’t broken before setting it back in the sink, then he knelt back down beside you. 

“C’mere,” he murmured, doing his best to hold you in his arms. You didn’t want to be difficult but moving was hard so you had to let him do most of the work. He managed to pick you up, and kissed your hair gently as he carried you… somewhere; you didn’t much care where, really. You weren’t surprised, though, that he’d taken you to the bedroom, where he gently laid you down on the sheets. You expected him to tell you to get some sleep and step out, but instead he settled down beside you and pulled you against him. “What do you need?” he asked. “How can I help?” 

“I don’t know,” you murmured, tracing patterns on his shirt. You truly weren’t sure what would help, or even what you wanted. Everything was simply… bad. Except Mark, but you weren’t really up for verbalizing your only-nebulously-formed need for..? Something. Maybe affection was what you needed, but luckily it seemed like Mark was going to stay and hold you even though you hadn’t explicitly asked him to. 

You laid quietly for a few minutes. Mark seemed to sense you weren’t really up for talking. It was him that spoke up again, gently but seriously. “Stop me anytime.” You didn’t have time to question what he meant before he shifted, sliding a hand down your waistband, between your legs, and swirling a finger around your clit. 

…You’d thought about this, too, but you certainly hadn’t expected it. You shifted, parting your legs to give him easier access. He dipped the fingers lower, collecting your natural slickness, and then he returned to your clit. You sighed softly, letting him pleasure you. 

“Are you okay with this?” Mark asked without pausing. 

You nodded. A part of you was a little amused at the idea that you could circumvent your depression’s suppression of happy chemicals with a little rote physical stimulation. You’d done it before, of course. This was different, though. It was better because it was him caring for you; the fact that it was done out of affection and love brought it beyond rote physical stimulation. The thoughts in your head all danced around Mark. You sighed his name, adjusting position again so that you could kiss him. 

After a few minutes under Mark’s skillful hand, you were close, and told him as much through soft whimpers and small whines. He kissed you again, soft and gentle, adjusting the pace right when you needed him to, and you spilled over the edge with a small moan and a cry of his name. A few slow strokes brought you through the orgasm, and he withdrew his hand before it turned to overstimulation. He turned away from you for just long enough to wipe his hand clean with a tissue, then cuddled around you again. “Was that good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, thank you,” you breathed. You felt something other than terrible for the first time all day. “But wait, you didn’t—”

Mark guessed where you’d been going with that and interrupted you. “No, don’t. This was just for you. I’m fine, Y/N.”

You frowned up at him. You’d just wanted to offer to make him feel good in return, but he was pretty clearly not going to let you.

“Let’s just rest a bit. You should take a nap,” Mark suggested. 

He was probably right. You weren’t sure that sleep would help your mental state, but it wouldn’t hurt, and it sure would pass some time in a way that wasn’t agonizing. “…Okay,” you acquiesced, settling down beside him, still feeling soft on the edges. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”


End file.
